


Interwoven

by yunmin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pining, Polyamory, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8536153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: After Endor.Wedge Antilles keeps flying, and fighting for the New Republic. Lando Calrissian takes stock of his life and decides that he wants to fight for Bespin. Luke Skywalker dedicates himself to the path of the Jedi. Three paths that should lead them to very different places.But a friendship forged in the fire of an exploding Death Star (or two) turns out to be a hard thing to shake. As the war drags on, and on, Wedge, Luke and Lando find themselves leaning on each other for support. Which leads to complications. And pining. And miscommunication.And then… love.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookykingdomstarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/gifts).



> This fic references events that are part of _Shattered Empire, Aftermath, Aftermath: Life Debt, Rebels_ , and the Star Wars game _Uprising_. There are also some minor references to the old Legends canon. Hopefully, none of that should prohibit your enjoyment if you haven't read them, but just to let you know.
> 
> (There are also references to _Lost Stars_ , a book I have not yet read, so I hope people forgive me if I've gotten anything about that wildly wrong.)
> 
> Also... as may be evident from the word count, this got a little out of hand. But I was never going to turn "three-way pining and miscommunication" down. Ever. So, spookykingdomstarlight, I hope you like it?

Lando’s talking to Han one minute, then the next Han is distracted by Leia calling to him and Lando finds himself alone once again.

If he turned round, he’d quickly find himself back in the throng, and there would be a pilot or a pathfinder or a jumble of Ewoks wanting to pass along congratulations and well wishes, but there’s been enough of that already this evening. Not that Lando had ever been one to turn down boosts to his ego, but tonight… tonight feels different.

He can’t tell why, yet. The mood is generally jubilant, but Lando feels a little hesitant, cautious, about throwing himself full-pelt into the celebrations. The war is not done yet. But he can’t just stand here either; that feels weird. So he makes his way through the crowd, accepting the hands that clap his shoulders in admiration, until he hears a voice call his name.

Lando turns his head to find Luke Skywalker hollering at him across the din of the crowd. “Luke!” Lando replies, smiling wide and pushing his way through people to make his way over to Luke. The Jedi – for that is what he undoubtedly is these days – is sitting apart from everyone else. Beside him is Wedge Antilles, mug in hand, looking far looser than he had earlier. Lando remembers a man who’d stood stiffly beside a fire, clutching his helmet, waiting for Luke to return. The helmet is nowhere in sight now. Most would assume that Wedge has been made looser by the potent brew that the Ewoks have been offering all evening, but Lando suspects that it might be the presence of Luke at Wedge’s side.

(Lando had heard the panic in Wedge’s voice, the moment after Shara Bey had confirmed that the Lambda-class shuttle that had escaped the Death Star was piloted by Luke Skywalker. The fear that he could have killed his best friend. It wasn’t that Lando hadn’t been momentarily shocked by how close they’d come to killing Luke, but he’d had to stay calm on the comm, and had turned Wedge back to the task at hand. Clearing up the TIE fighters and Capital Ships that remained.)

He finds a spare crate and pulls it up opposite them, placing himself down on it.

“Do you want some?” Wedge asks, holding out his mug. Lando looks at it dubiously. He’s had his fair share of what passes for liquor around here, and he’s not sure he wants much more. It’s certainly not the worst thing he’d ever drunk – that distinction is reserved for the awful rotgut liquor he and Han downed on Han’s twenty-first birthday. “Go on,” Wedge encourages. “We need to have a toast, anyway.”

“A toast? To what?”

“Your new membership of our very exclusive club,” Luke says. “Welcome to the ‘I destroyed a Death Star’ brigade. Congrats. There are three of us.”

“Four,” Lando says. “I had a co-pilot, remember?” And maybe Nien hadn’t fired the shot, or flown them right into the heart of the Death Star, but he was there. If Lando gets his way, he’ll get the credit too.

“Of course,” Wedge nods sagely. “And everyone else who survived the run – Wexley, Celchu – they’ll get medals and commendations. But Luke’s point stands. So drink.”

“You should listen to him,” Luke says. “After all, he’s the man who helped destroy two Death Stars.”

Wedge’s mouth works into something resembling a grimace, like he’s not entirely sure that’s something noteworthy, something to be proud of. Lando takes the mug from his hand just to distract him, and knocks the contents back in one gulp.

It’s not the Ewok’s home brew.

“Kriff,” Lando says, coughing slightly. “Who’d you bribe to get a mug of Whyren’s?”

Wedge then produces an entire bottle of the stuff.

“Correction. Who’d you bribe to get an entire bottle?”

From Wedge’s side, Luke laughs. It’s bright and warm and Lando can’t remember ever hearing Luke laugh during the six months he’s known him. Not that there has been much to laugh about. It’s surprising how much it changes his face, making him light up and look years younger. “I think it’s called being Corellian.”

Wedge nods again, unscrewing the cap of the bottle and pouring some more into the mug that Lando’s now holding. He then lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a swig, before passing it to Luke, who takes a smaller sip. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion,” he says. “Just happy that we’ve got a celebration to use it for.” He closes his eyes and Lando wonders what he’s thinking; of an occasion where it would be necessary to drown one’s sorrows, or sitting at this celebration but not having Luke at his side to partake in it. But that’s not what happened. So Lando stops wondering.

“Well, I’m glad I could be here to share it with you.”

Lando offers his mug up, and Luke clinks it with the bottle, before passing the bottle to Wedge, who does the same. “To survival,” Luke says.

“To absent comrades,” Wedge adds.

“To making the Galaxy a safer place.”

They both nod to that. Lando sips the whiskey in the mug, taking care to enjoy it this time. It’s good stuff. Lando doesn’t know where Wedge got it from, but he’d like to find out – if they’ve got any more bottles, he’d be interested in procuring them.

After a long, lingering moment, when the ghosts of those who died in bringing the Rebellion to this place gather around them, Luke stands up, shaking the weariness out of his bones. “Lando, I don’t suppose you know where Han and Leia went?”

“No idea, sorry.”

Luke closes his eyes for a moment, concentrating hard. Then he makes an awful face and shakes his head. “Yeah, Leia, you’re right, I don’t need to see that,” he mutters under his breath before opening his eyes again. “I think we might have seen the last of them for the evening.”

“Ahhh,” Lando says, getting the drift. There goes his chances for a proper catch up with Han, who he hasn't really spoken to – well, for years, now. The pieces of conversation they’d managed to snatch on _Home One_ weren’t much. He’ll have to do it another day.

“Well, not much we can do about that,” Luke says, standing. “If they’re going to have their fun, we might as well.”

It almost – in the context of what Han and Leia are likely doing – sounds like a proposition. But this is Luke, and he doesn’t do things like that.

“Fancy a dance?” Lando asks, because Luke hasn’t made any advances on what his idea of fun entails.

There’s a glimmer of surprise in Luke’s eyes as he answers: “Yeah, sure.”

Lando looks to Wedge, who’s still seated, holding the bottle of Whyren’s loosely in his hand. “You don’t mind me stealing him, Wedge?” Lando asks, dimly aware that he’s now breaking up whatever it was they were doing before he intruded.

Wedge shakes his head. “Take him,” he says, waving them off. “I keep meaning to turn in anyway. Someone’s got to be up to organise patrols tomorrow.”

“You work too hard,” Luke says, his voice suddenly soft, not teasing, as it has been through most of their conversation.

“So do you,” Wedge counters, and well, he has a point. Then, as if he realises that they’re on the verge of a massive argument, he sighs, and makes shoo-ing motions with his hands. “Go, go, have fun, dance, ignore tired old me.”

“We will,” Lando assures him. Then he takes Luke’s arm, and sweeps him back into the crowd of dancing jubilant soldiers and pilots, letting the music sway over them.

.

Wedge takes another sip out the bottle. He’s drunk a fair amount – more than he ever usually would, though he’s been fairly liberal with sharing, pouring shots into various well-wishers glasses as they’ve passed, and Luke hadn’t been shy about sharing either.

He meant what he said. He really should turn in. Things are starting to die down, anyway, people beginning to break off – some in pairs looking for privacy, others just into smaller groups so they can talk – and though it’ll probably be hours before the last revellers hit the hay, the atmosphere is already calmer.

But for now, he takes a moment to watch Luke and Lando, swaying together to the music that has played over the celebration all the time he’s been down here. Luke’s smiling wide, grinning at something Lando’s just said – Wedge has no idea what – and it’s such a relief to see him like that, instead of being shrouded in this haunted stoic mantle he’s worn for months now.

He remembers the first time he met Lando; standing in the medical bay by Luke’s side, and the jealousy that clawed its way up inside him as he saw the easy manner Lando had with Luke. He hadn’t heard the story then; he’d just come off of a mission and been shocked to be told that Luke and Leia were back, and had dropped his helmet and run, forgetting all about debriefing and propriety in favour of seeing with his own two eyes how Luke was.

He’d found him, looking pale in a medical bed, this dark-haired, dark-skinned man sitting on the bed beside Luke, while Leia sat at a desk across from him, and Chewie standing guard at the door. The shock had probably showed on his face, because Leia had beckoned him straight over, and told him the entire sorry story.

Then she’d had to hold him back as he seriously considered punching Lando.

Han Solo, gone, Luke, without a hand, Leia, more traumatised than he’d ever seen her. An entire colony fallen to the Empire.

Later, he’d talked with Luke – and that had been tough in itself, learning that the last words that Luke had said to him, “I’ll see you at the rendezvous,” had been a complete lie, that Luke had never intended on making it there, too busy going off to do Jedi business and too afraid to tell anyone – and realised it had been a combination of factors that had led to the complete and utter kriff-up that had been Bespin.

And then, as Leia and Lando and Luke had sat and talked of plans to get Han back, Wedge had started to warm to Lando; had seen how far his devotion stretched, the care he took with both of them. They’d been fragile, skittish people then, completely different from the people Wedge had known. Lando had drawn them back out their shells, put smiles back on their faces.

It’s difficult to hate a man like that.

He looks back at Luke and Lando. Luke’s head is nestled in the crook of Lando’s neck; the pretence of the dance allowing them an intimacy that would usually be suspect. For a moment, Wedge wishes that he’d asked Luke to dance, so he could be the one holding him, having Luke lean against him in that way, close and tight.

Then, in a surprising flash, he imagines what it might be like to be held in Lando’s arms, head resting against Lando’s strong shoulders, and to have that smile and charm directed at him.

That’s new.

And troubling.

He’s definitely had too much to drink. And it’s definitely time to turn in. And hopefully, by the morning, his idiotic illusions will have faded and he can go back to being a pilot.

.

Luke sighs, wiping the exhaustion away from his face. As the Rebellion takes more planets, and as Palpatine’s stranglehold on the Empire fades, new information about the Jedi and what happened after the execution of Order Sixty-Six keeps flooding in. And Mon Mothma has sent it all to him.

He appreciates her efforts but it’s a daunting task: to rebuild the Jedi into something the Galaxy can be proud of. He still has no idea how to approach it.

The latest piece of information, about a facility that Palpatine had had on an Imperial Base on Vestine, is one more piece of the puzzle. As near as Luke can work out, the facility houses the last cutting of the tree that grew at the heart of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. If he’s going to build something anew, that seems like a fine place to start. He certainly doesn’t want to leave them in the grip of the Empire.

But he’s still trying to work out how to get into one of the most securely guarded Imperial Bases he’s ever seen, deep in Imperial space.

He’s been sitting in the pilots’ ready room for three hours now, getting nowhere, undisturbed, when he senses someone’s approach. He checks his chrono – it’s still not time for the scheduled briefing, he’d chosen this room specifically because it wasn’t being used until the afternoon. “Found him,” he hears a voice say, and he looks up to see Wedge approaching through the door, and then Lando Calrissian following behind him.

“Hey Wedge,” Luke says. “Lando.” He nods his head to Lando, following behind Wedge, as Wedge takes the seat next to him.

“What are you looking at?” Wedge asks, looking up at the holo-projection Luke’s set up. His expression is curious and full of light, despite the five o’clock shadow on his jaw and the flightsuit indicating he’s probably just come off a mission. Certainly, Luke wasn’t aware he was aboard.

“Imperial Research facility on Vestine,” Luke replies. “I think Palpatine used it to house artifacts from the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, so I need to get in there.”

“Of course you do,” Wedge mutters, leaning in to look closer. His arm comes up to wrap around the back of Luke’s chair, fingers playing with the edge of it, and Luke wishes Wedge would move it so it was wrapped around Luke’s shoulders instead. But he’s a Jedi now and he can’t ask that of Wedge, not while they’re still fighting this war, can’t start something he doesn’t know how to finish. “What’s your plan?”

“Haven’t got one,” Luke admits. He glances over to Lando. “Don’t suppose you could lend a hand?”

Lando smiles that incorrigible grin, one not dissimilar to Han’s, really, in the grand scheme of things, but one that never fails to remind Luke of Biggs. “You know, we came down here to make sure you weren’t working yourself too hard. But I suppose we could. Wedge?”

“It’s not like I had anything better planned,” Wedge answers.

Lando takes a seat on the other side of Luke, and Luke begins the long process of going through the security measures that they know of on this particular Imperial Base. He’s touched by the time they’ve taken out of their days to spend with him – Wedge off a mission, and Lando was on Naboo the last Luke heard, even though he clearly isn’t any more.

“We obtained Commander Alicia Beck’s clearances at the Wretch of Tayron last week,” Wedge says. “Would that be enough to get you through the door?”

Luke frowns. “Well, yes, I think – apart from one minor problem, which is that I’m never going to convince the Imperials that I’m Alicia Beck, am I?”

Lando laughs. “No, I doubt it.” His smile is blinding. “The Imps may be getting stupid, but they aren’t that far gone yet. Do we know what she looks like? Maybe we can find you a match.”

Luke checks his datapad, summoning up the Rebellion’s latest image of Commander Beck. It’s not a recent one – it’s almost two years old, Beck’s kept a reasonably low profile, they’ve only got her clearances thanks to a bit of luck and some high skilled intelligence work – but it’ll have to do. “There she is.” The woman is dark haired, in an ISB uniform, and is luckily reasonably nondescript. She shouldn’t be too difficult to match, but Luke is doing very badly of keeping track of the various members of the Rebellion to know anyone who looks enough like her who’s available to take the mission.

Lando squints at the projected holo. “Oh, got it,” he says. “Take Shara Bey.” From Luke’s other side, Wedge nods in agreement. “There’s more than a passing resemblance between them. And if you take Bey with you, we can all rest easy knowing you’ve got a pair of capable hands to back you up.”

“Shara Bey…” Luke ponders the name for a moment, before recognition strikes. “She’s a pilot, right?”

Wedge tuts from beside him. “She’s with Green Squadron. A-Wing pilot, extremely good – she was with us at Endor. And she led the defence at Naboo last month.”

“There ain’t many who can fly like her,” Lando says. “And she’s not bad on the ground, too – her husband’s one of Han’s pathfinders, and I think he learnt half the tricks he knows from her. Where are Green Squadron based at the moment, Wedge?”

Wedge takes a moment to think. “They’re heading to Stalwart for the rendezvous. Ackbar and Madine want to re-brief and re-task, amongst the Empire’s renewed attacks and the mustering out that’s going on.”

“We lost anyone from Rogue yet?” Luke asks, on that note.

“Nope,” Wedge replies. “Bunch of fool-hardy, idiotic pilots we recruited there. Can’t get any of them to even think about what they’re going to do when the war ends.” And there he pauses, shocked at his own words. “Not that I know. Didn’t think I’d ever see an end to it.”

“You’re not there yet,” Lando points out, while Luke just lays a hand over Wedge’s free one. He knows Wedge’s struggle with survivor’s guilt over the years, as he lives through tragedy after tragedy that has seen almost everyone he knows cut down. He strokes the gap between Wedge’s thumb and forefinger, feeling the callus built up where the X-Wing yoke kicks.

“Yeah, well.” Wedge shrugs it off, looking back at the holo projector. “So, take Bey with Beck’s clearances to get you past the initial security. We’ve got enough Lambda class shuttles around these days that you can borrow one of those. Then what?”

“Get what I can, and get out,” Luke replies. “It’s not like these things ever go to plan, anyway, so what’s the point in planning that far.”

Wedge is a man who always likes to have an exit plan, so it sits a little uncomfortably with him, that much is clear, but Luke is fine with it.

“Okay, now that’s done.” Lando claps his hands together. “You need a break,” he says, to Luke but probably including Wedge in that as well. “Let's go and get some lunch.”

He’s on his feet remarkably quickly, tugging Luke up who tugs Wedge with him and they end up in a little bit of a tangle, where Luke isn’t quite sure who’s limbs are whose. It’s nice. He misses this easy camaraderie, the sort of thing he and the Rogues had on Hoth where everyone was in and out of each other’s beds under the pretence of shared body-heat. Now, everyone treats him like precious marble – too fine to be touched.

“Yeah,” Luke says, negotiating one of his arms so it sits on Wedge’s waist, and leans into the arm Lando has around his shoulders. “That sounds like a good idea.”

.

Lando’s not entirely sure he’s comfortable with the idea for Wedge doing a run around the Outer Rim territories. But Wedge has got Ackbar to sign off on what is a remarkably open-ended mission, so all Lando can do is try and mitigate the disaster he suspects it might turn into, and plot Wedge a safe route. The problem is that Lando agrees with Wedge, broadly. The Empire is clearly funding the war effort from somewhere, and the smart money would be to head out this way, to the territories that Tarkin once ruled with an iron fist, populations so battered that there is no fight left in them. No systems of government to reach out to the New Republic and ask for help.

However, Lando’s not sure he agrees with it being a solo mission, and he definitely doesn’t agree with Wedge being the one to fly it. But Wedge turns out to be unreasonably stubborn, and Lando doesn’t have any tricks up his sleeve for getting him to change his mind.

He almost considers trying to pull rank when he discovers quite how abysmal a liar Wedge is.

“Come on. Who are you again?”

Lando taps his foot as Wedge draws himself up. This is silly, anyway – if the Empire captured Wedge, it wouldn’t take them long to work out who he was. “I’m Gev Hessan. My ship is a HH-87 Starhopper, the Rover.”

“What are you carrying?”

“Light cargo,” Wedge replies. “Droid Components.”

“And what’s your planet of origin?”

“Devaron. Though I consider myself a free agent these days.”

Lando sighs, presumably relieved that Wedge has managed to recite everything correctly. “Good,” he says. “Though you could stand to sound a little less Corellian.”

Wedge laughs, and shakes his head. “I can try.” That’s the smile of a man who might try but will probably fail, and Lando’s hopeful that he’ll never need the cover; it won’t hold up to much, but anything more would take weeks to construct and they don’t have that time. “How do you know this guy, anyway?” Wedge asks.

“He smuggled some parts in when I was building up Cloud City.”

“It would be a smuggler.”

“I think he prefers the term legitimate pilot and business man,” Lando replies. “And I’ll have you know, I have acquaintances who aren’t smugglers.”

Wedge’s eyes light up. “And who might they be?”

“You,” Lando replies, and Wedge makes a funny face at that that Lando intends to chase at some point. “Leia, Luke—”

“You don’t have to list everyone in the Rebellion you’ve met without a smuggling past,” Wedge cuts in. “I believe you.”

“I’ve been respectable at points in my life,” Lando says. “Bespin wasn’t my first encounter with the Rebellion, I’ll have you know.”

That interests Wedge, because Lando is fairly tight-lipped about what he did before building Cloud City up to its grand heights, apart from the fact that he used to smuggle and cheat and con with Han. “Who’d you meet, and when?”

“A lovely lady by the name of Hera Syndulla, on Lothal, about eight years ago.”

Wedge’s breath stops. “Captain Syndulla, of the Ghost?” he asks, though he’s not sure he could be anyone else. “And the Lothal Rebels? Kanan, Ezra, Zeb, Sabine?”

Lando looks surprised. “Yes,” he replies. “You did too?”

“Sabine Wren pulled me out of the Sky Strike academy. I’m with the Rebellion because of her. And I knew the others, a little. Flew with Captain Syndulla a handful of times. She was…” Wedge pauses, searching for the words to describe Hera up in the sky. “One hell of a pilot, that’s for sure.”

“Do you know what happened to them?” Lando asks.

Wedge shakes his head. “I have no idea. I haven’t heard from them since… since before the first Death Star. And I didn’t have the clearance to go asking after them back then. And now…” Wedge bites his lip, a wistful look on his face. “I’m not sure I want to know. I like being able to believe that they’re still alive out there somewhere.”

Lando’s not sure he, personally, could deal with that amount of uncertainty. Wedge’s face is screwed up, like he’s also reconsidering his choices. His eyes crease at the edges, and then he closes them, reaching up to push his hair back out of his face.

“Am I being naive?” he asks.

A year ago, Lando would have answered yes to that question, unequivocally. But he's learnt some things in the past months, and part of that is that it’s never wrong to have hope. And that Wedge might be an idealist, but he’s got a pragmatic streak that will see him through a lot.

It’s also kinda endearing, especially when Wedge is looking at him with those warm open brown eyes, attention focused squarely on him.

“Maybe?” Lando answers. “I don’t know, Wedge. If that’s what keeps you going, so be it.”

It’s a non-committal answer, because he doesn’t want to risk pushing Wedge away; for the man to follow his advice and find out something he’s never wanted to know.

“What will you do now?” Wedge asks, wanting to get off this melancholy topic they’ve found themselves on.

That, Lando can answer. He’s been giving it a lot of thought over the past few months, as the Republic gets itself established, and uses his abilities as a General to liberate planets. He’s at a loose end at the moment, the Republic considering its options. “Tam Bastion’s attempting to liberate the Anoat Sector. I figured I’d go and give him a hand.”

“Get Cloud City back from the Imps? Sounds good.” Wedge looks pleased with his choice, and Lando feels a little flood of warmth inside, pleased that Wedge – this stalwart Rebel fighter, who everyone around him looks to as a moral compass – agrees with him.

He has no idea when Wedge’s opinion started to hold so much worth with him, but it’s happened.

“You take care out there, okay?” Lando says. “You get yourself captured and it’ll be my ass on the line with Luke and Leia, no doubt.”

“I’m always careful,” Wedge says. “I should ask the same of you.”

Lando places his biggest, charmingest grin on his face. “Well, we’ll have to make it a mutual pact then, hey?”

“I can run with that,” Wedge says. He moves towards Lando, with his hand out. Probably wanting to shake on it.

Lando takes Wedge’s hand and uses it to pull him into a hug, exactly the same as he saw Luke do on Endor, and feels Wedge stiffen in surprise before loosening up, wrapping his arms around Lando’s waist and leaning his head down on Lando’s shoulder.

Lando threads a hand through Wedge’s hair – which is surprisingly soft – and says: “I’ll see you in a couple of months, okay?”

.

Wedge wakes up in a white hospital bed, in a white room, with blinding white lights above him.

It takes him a while to come back to himself properly. His leg hurts, but that’s been pretty constant for days now. But otherwise, he feels much better than he did. He can breathe easy, and his head is clear. That’s something to be thankful for.

He opens his eyes properly, looking round. There’s nothing to identify where he is; it could be a medical transport or a hospital anywhere, as near as he can tell. Only, Leia Organa Solo sits in the chair by his bedside, fingers tapping something out on a datapad.

He must be on Chandrila.

“Leia?”

She looks up immediately, setting her datapad aside to reach up and clasp Wedge’s hand. “Wedge,” she says. “Oh, thank goodness you’re alright. You’ve given us all a bit of a fright.”

Wedge can only think he’s come through much worse in his years at with the Alliance. But Leia’s face is pulled into a look of concern. He attempts to sit up, so he can face her properly, and—

“Stay still,” Leia chastises. Wedge isn’t going to argue. That hurt. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

Wedge settles back down onto the bed. “The team,” he asks. “Did everyone make it out?”

“Temmin Wexley, Sinjir Rath Velus and Jas Emari are all fine,” Leia says. “Norra Wexley is worse off than you are, she’s still under sedation, but it looks like she’ll pull through. We also managed to pick up Jom Barrell of the Spec-Forces team we sent down to Akiva.” She brings something back up on her datapad. “You did a good job, Wedge. Though if you could have done it without pulling yourself from the flight roster for six months, that would have been nice.”

Wedge groans. “Is that how long they reckon I’ll be out?”

“At least,” Leia says. “Which is a bit of a blow to the nascent New Republic Starfighter Corps, who wanted you back. More to the point, I’d really like to see a mission executed without an old friend almost getting killed.”

Her tone is still light, but Wedge is getting the impression that he had managed to really worry her. And Leia isn’t a woman to worry easy.

“I didn’t intend to get captured by the last remnants of Imperial High Command,” Wedge tells her.

“No one ever does,” Leia quips back. “The public have got a hold of your war record, by the way. The parts of it that aren’t classified to hell and back. They’ve started calling you ‘unkillable’. This latest stunt isn’t going to dissuade anyone of that fact.”

“Great.” Wedge puts his hands to his face, covering his eyes. The last thing he wants is a stupid moniker, especially that one. It’s just chance; that’s the only reason he’s standing here today instead of someone else. Not luck, or skill, and certainly not divine intervention. “Can’t wait to hear what Han and Luke and the Rogues make of that one.”

Leia stays silent, and Wedge takes his hands away from his face to look at her. Her expression is uncomfortable.

“They aren’t around, are they?”

“No.” Leia shakes her head, biting her lip, looking her age for once. “Han’s chasing after Chewie; they got a lead on the liberation of Kashyyyk and Chewie’s missing. Luke is wherever Luke got to. And your Rogues, well, most of them are off on the various missions they were assigned when you guys split. You’d have to ask Ackbar for the details, I’m afraid, I don’t know where they’ve all got to.” Then she smiles, slightly. “Lando sent a message for you, though.”

“He did?”

Leia nods. “I’ve got it here.” She flicks something up on the screen of her datapad, then passes it across to Wedge.

The message isn’t opened; Leia must have downloaded and saved it. He authenticates himself, then opens it. He’s not sure what to expect; a holo-recording, or a letter?

It turns out to be eight words.

_Thought you told me you’d be careful, flyboy?_

It’s a little flippant; or it could certainly be read that way, especially when he doesn’t say anything and Leia comments “oh, he’s not written screens, has he? He’s good at that, given half a chance,” but Wedge can sense the warmth under it, imagines the smile on Lando’s face as he says it. It’s an echo of the words that he’d said to Lando, and it’s a little teasing, and Wedge can’t help but grin a little.

“What has he sent you?” Leia asks, impatient and ever slightly befuddled. Wedge shows her the screen. She stares at the message for a moment, then looks up at Wedge, and raises an eyebrow. “Is there something going on between you I should know about?”

Wedge sputters. The idea that he and Lando could be something is ridiculous. Sure, he sees the attraction of Lando’s suave charm, and maybe the message could be construed as a little flirty, but there’s nothing there. “No,” he says, issuing a denial he’s fairly certain Leia isn’t going to believe.

She gives him a dubious look, as suspected. “Are you sure?” she asks, and he nods. “It’s just— I know you and Luke had… something?… and Lando is—” Leia is doing a terrible job of finding whatever words she wants to say. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Wedge. You deserve better.”

It’s funny that she says that, because Wedge is fairly certain his problem in pursuing Luke or Lando is that he’s not good enough for either of them, but he’s not about to start an argument with Leia over this. “I’ll work it out somehow,” Wedge tells her. “Now,” he says, because he wants to get off this topic before she can ask anymore probing questions. “Please tell me that you’ve got something lined up for me to do. I might not be able to fly, but if you expect me to just sit in this hospital bed I’m going to go spare.”

.

Luke throws the hyperdrive leaver into gear, and the stars melt and blur around them.

Behind him, Lando Calrissian is still trying to catch his breath. “Milk run,” he says, panting. “You said this was going to be a milk run.”

It was supposed to be. Luke had found some old records that pointed to a stash of Jedi artifacts hidden away on Mataou. He’d thought they would be an easy grab. After all, the Anoat Sector is slowly falling to open Rebellion; the Alliance has people on the ground, even with Governor Adelhard’s Iron Blockade supposedly holding strong. And Lando had been on Burnin-Konn, helping to spur the fledgling rebellion in this sector into action.

On Mataou, everything had gone wrong, and they’d tripped nearly every trap they’d come across. He and Lando had barely escaped with their lives, chased off the planet by ancient sentinel droids.

Supposedly, the Rebellion knows a smuggler who’s been hopping on and off Mataou for months now. Luke would like to know exactly how they’re doing it.

“So, it didn’t quite go to plan. We’re fine.”

“Your plans are awful, has anyone ever told you that?” Lando slinks into the co-pilot’s seat, not that he’s needed.

Luke checks the course on the ship’s computer. It’s only a short hop back to Burnin-Konn, but that necessitates keeping a close eye on the hyperdrive so they don’t overshoot. “Wedge, repeatedly,” Luke replies.

“You ever thought about listening to him?” Lando asks.

“I listen to him!” On occasion. Sometimes. He’s had this argument with Wedge before. “We’ve always made it out okay.”

“Well, I’m just glad we got off the planet before it killed us,” Lando says, folding his arm and leaning back in his seat.

Luke pays Lando’s grumblings little heed. Despite Lando being an exceptional General, a good pilot, and a not half-bad solider, Luke’s certain that he’s never been happy fighting a war. He’s a man who would rather solve his problems with words, if he could.

(The Galaxy is not like that, not at the moment, but they will shortly be in need of more men like that, and so Luke is grateful that Lando Calrissian stands with them. Luke hopes that he can become the sort of man Lando is, one day, a Jedi who solves problems with words instead of a swing of a lightsaber.)

The computer suddenly buzzes with an alert, and Luke turns his attention back to the controls. They’re out of hyperspace now, and Burnin-Konn looms before them. Luke starts the descent towards the Konn-Nevos Spaceport, where he’d come in. “Wait,” Lando says, receiving something on his comm.

“What’s going on?” Luke asks.

“Something’s gone wrong down at Nevos. I’m getting a distress signal from Bastion. This isn’t good.” Lando leans over, inputting new co-ordinates into the computer. “We’re diverting to Longstar. I hope Shortpaw won’t mind.”

There’s a crease of worry in Lando’s brow, and it’s that which concerns Luke. Lando’s been on the ground, knows the players. Burnin-Konn is a largely lawless world, its inhabitants being familiar with smuggling and trickery long before Adlehard’s blockade had made them the only way of life. In ways, it reminds Luke of Tatooine, only on Tatooine he understands the rhythm of the planet in a way he doesn’t here.

Luke lands the ship in a yard next to a brimming marketplace. When he opens the ship’s hatch, he can hear the sound of blaster-fire echoing around them.

“Kriffing hells,” Lando curses. “That’s never good.”

Luke peers out over Lando’s shoulder. He can’t see anything, but he can hear it, and sense the agression and betrayal in the air. “What do you think happened?”

“No idea,” Lando replies. “I don’t like it though. And I can’t raise Tam. That worries me.”

“So, we go in?”

Lando places a hand to his face, sighing. “I don’t want to. But… I can’t just leave here like this. Not again. So, yeah, we go in. Is that alright with you?”

Luke reaches for the lightsaber on his belt, unhooking it, and holding the metal in his hands. Feels the kyber crystal vibrate in readiness. “I’m with you, Lando.”

They leave the ship behind, weaving in and out of other ships parked around them as they edge towards the sound of the blaster-fire. It gets louder and ever increasing in frequency as they draw in. “I hope Shortpaw and his goons are about,” Lando comments, stepping over broken machinery. “They’re no friends to the Alliance, but they might be able to tell us something.”

Luke sees something that makes him draw up short. He puts out a hand to stop Lando, then peers out and around one of the ships, desperately hoping that he was mistaken.

He wasn’t.

There are Stormtroopers in the marketplace. The white armour gleams. And there are dozens of them. Governor Adelhard must have finally called in the troops. Some of the smugglers in the marketplace are fighting them, but others appear to be co-operating with them, pointing out hiding locations. Luke sees a woman dragged from a crevice by a smuggler, and pushed to her knees in front of the troopers. She’s given a moment to explain herself, and then is shot. Beside him, Lando gasps.

“She was one of ours,” he explains. That’s not good news.

A stall only metres from them explodes, sending debris flying all over them. Luke’s hand is grabbed by Lando, and Luke’s tugged away, running through an increasingly manic battlefield. Lando manages to find a speeder-bike, and jumps on it, keying through the start up sequence quickly. “Hop on,” Lando says, and Luke does so, wrapping his arms around Lando’s waist.

While most of Burnin Konn is considered uninhabitable, one can still manage to find passage on the planet’s surface easy enough, if one knows where they’re going. Or, if like Luke, you can rely on the force. It’s easy enough to find the path, and to tug Lando this way or that, and before long they are clear of the firefight, and outside the Carbon Score Cantina.

“We’re going to be even less welcome here than we were at Longstar. Minus the Stormtroopers, obviously. If they work out who you are, things could be bad,” Lando tells Luke.

“I wish Wedge was here,” Luke responds. “He’s got a knack for this sort of thing.”

Lando looks unconvinced, but Luke has seen Wedge walk into some of the worst places in the Galaxy and come out miraculously unharmed. It’s not Luke’s fault that no one believes him. But Wedge is not here. So they’ll have to make do without him. Luke is in the middle of pulling his hood up, obscuring his face, when Lando’s hand is suddenly on his wrist.

Luke manages to catch a glimpse of a number of thugs exiting the Cantine, then he’s tugged towards Lando, and Lando’s lips are on his, Lando’s arms around his waist. His grip is solid, and the kiss is soft, and Luke can’t help but lean into it. “Work with me,” Lando mutters, angling his head to deepen the kiss.

This is a distraction, Luke knows that, but it also feels real; as he brings his hands up to tangle in Lando’s hair, and runs his tongue across Lando’s bottom lip. For this moment, he can allow himself something that he can never usually have.

Then Lando pulls away. “I think we’re clear,” he says.

Luke looks around. There’s no one to be seen. Lando’s right. But he’s not sure he feels fine. He looks back to Lando, and Lando doesn’t look fine either. His pupils are blown, and his mouth is dark red, and Luke takes more pleasure than he should at having affected him this way. But he can’t think about that now.

“Let's go,” Luke says.

Luckily, they don’t encounter any problems when they actually get in the Cantina. Keeping their heads down and covered, they manage to find a contact that Lando knows. They don’t seem to know much more than Lando does, which means that they’re still none the wiser about what’s gone on. If Tam Bastion is still alive, he’s gone into the wind.

But the contact does give Lando and Luke a lead on a ship, which they’re now bereft of, having abandoned it back at the marketplace.

“Come with me,” Luke asks, offering his hand to Lando. The ship is small, but it could fit both of them, comfortably enough to the next major port.

Lando shakes his head. “I can’t.” Luke looks at him, and he elaborates. “If Tam’s alive, I can’t just leave him here. I need to take a report of something back to the New Republic.”

“I understand,” Luke says, because he does. “Stay safe. You’ll probably be back on Chandrila before I am, anyway.”

“You’re not going back?”

“I’ve got other things I need to do,” Luke replies. “Tell Leia, if you do see her, that I’ll be back before the baby’s born.”

“I will,” Lando says.

“And…” Luke hesitates. Right now, Wedge is still on Chandrila, injured trying to help the nascent New Republic find the remnants of the Empire. “Give my best to Wedge. Please.”

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear it,” Lando says.

Luke stands there, watching him, taking a moment. But there’s nothing more to say, even though it feels like there should be.

“I’ll see you soon, Lando,” Luke says, before he turns his back and flies away.

.

Lando arrives back on Chandrila to a welcoming party of Han, Chewie, and a very pregnant Leia. “Your highness,” he says with a smile, taking her hand and placing a kiss to the back of it. He’d have hugged her, but he has no idea how to navigate the mass that is her stomach, or how such a move would be welcomed.

Han just clips him up the back of the head and says: “She’s my wife, you old scoundrel, have some respect.” Leia laughs, tugging Lando into her side with her hand and walking off, leaving Han and Chewie behind.

“Luke hasn’t come with you?” she asks, quietly.

Lando smooths his fingers over hers, taking a better grip of her hand. “I tried to convince him to come back,” Lando says. “He said he had a couple more things to do before he could. Though he promises to be back before the baby’s born.”

Leia scowls. She places her free hand over her stomach. “He doesn’t have long, then,” she says. “I think the little one is eager and impatient to get out and meet us.”

“Chasing your errant bother is your problem, not mine, I’m afraid.” Lando shrugs, aware that there’s a slight hypocrisy to what he says; if Leia asked, he’d chase Luke to the end of the universe. He’d do it without Leia asking, actually, if he thought it needed doing. “How are you and the baby doing, by the way?”

“I never thought it would be this exhausting,” Leia admits. “And he’s not even here yet. Just kicks at every moment of the day.”

Lando holds out his hand. “May I?” Leia nods, and he places his hand on her stomach, feeling the ripeness of it. She takes his hand by the wrist and moves it, and then he feels a pressure against his hand, something pushing out against it. “Wow,” he gasps. “Is that not weird?”

“Very,” Leia agrees. “Don’t tell Han though. He’s frustrated; the baby won’t kick for him. Does it for Wedge all the time though, which makes it worse.”

Lando can understand that. Wedge is a lot of things Han is not – dependable being one of them – and while Lando’s been out the loop a bit, he’s heard smidges of the gossip going round. The sludgenews hasn’t failed to notice Leia’s pregnancy, or the fact that Han’s been absent for large swaths of it, or that Wedge is a near constant presence at Leia’s side in her public appearances, and has put two and two together and come up with eleven. “Where has Wedge got to, anyway?”

“He’s at the training base,” Leia answers. “They’re letting him fly a little bit, now, and he’s taking every opportunity that they’ll give him.” That’s good – Lando knows that Wedge hasn’t been happy with being sidelined by his injury, with being on the ground instead of up in the air, that he dislikes command. Which is a shame, because he’s good at it – he knows how to motivate a crew of pilots, how to get his priorities straight and balance the six-dozen things you have to think about. Lando might be charming, but Wedge can cut straight to the core of you with one look if he so chooses.

While he’s thinking about all this, Leia’s giving him a strange look. One lowered eyebrow, and pursed lips; like she’s reconsidering him. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she says, after a moment. “He’ll be glad to see you.” Her words have a funny lilt to them, but Lando doesn’t dwell on it.

Lando steps away, throwing off a quick salute. “Well, I’ll see you later then. I owe him a ribbing.”

“You’re coming for dinner, though!” Han yells, still a few steps behind them. “We have to have a proper catch up; I want to know what you’ve been up to.”

“And what on earth you and Luke actually got up to on Mataou,” Leia says. “Bring Wedge,” she suggests, and Lando nods, before fleeing.

He can feel the heat rising on his cheeks, and the way that Leia was looking at him throughout the entire conversation makes him suspect. She must know something he doesn’t.

Lando has a suspicion that whatever it is lies in the guilt he feels in his chest when he remembers kissing Luke. And, more specifically, the idea of Wedge finding out about it. He’s fairly certain, looking back on everything, that Wedge definitely had a thing for Luke at some point – and quite possibly still does, if Lando’s being completely honest. It’s harder to know how Luke feels, but Lando thinks that perhaps he should give them a chance to work out whatever it is that lies between them before getting involved.

With either of them.

And that’s the crux of the matter; it’s not just Luke he wants. He wants Wedge too. He realised that out on Anoat, where it wasn’t just blonde hair and blue eyes that haunted his dreams, but brown eyes and dark hair and that searing bright orange of the flight-suits.

He shakes those thoughts off. Best not to think about any of that, and see what will be. He’s eager to see Wedge again, besides.

It’s not difficult to find the New Republic Naval base, and he asks for directions to the hangar, where he suspects Wedge will be. Wedge’s X-Wing is easy to spot amongst the rest as well; the paint job is battered compared to the shining exemplars that make up the Chandrilan defence wing. And then, as if there could be any doubts, there are the number of kills painted on the side of the ship; scores of TIE fighters, an Imp Deuce, and then – the two Death Stars.

Wedge’s kill list is longer than anyone else’s Lando knows, a testament to just how long he’s been fighting in the Rebellion.

It’s a little harder to spot the man himself, but Lando finally sees him, standing to one side of the hangar, speaking to a – rather motley, if Lando had to describe them – collection of pilots. Lando hangs back, not wanting to interrupt, but then one spots him, and elbows whoever it is beside him and whispers and that makes them all turn in his direction.

Well, he’s disrupted whatever Wedge is doing so he might as well interrupt. “Hello everyone, Wedge,” he says, with a wave.

“Lando,” Wedge replies, with a funny expression that is nowhere near as delighted as Lando would like it to be. Maybe it’s because the briefing was actually important for once. Wedge sighs, and Lando can almost see him decide to not care about it. “May I introduce some of the pilots of Phantom Squadron?”

Wedge reels off a list of names, none of which mean anything to Lando, until the last – the pilot who’d first noticed Lando. “Temmin Wexley, huh?” Lando says. “Any relation to Norra Wexley?”

“She’s my mother,” the pilot says.

Lando should be less surprised than he is, given that he knew that Norra had a teenage son, but he hadn’t known that the boy was old enough to be a pilot himself, to have got himself caught up in the whole thing. It makes Lando feel old. Temmin Wexley is part of the new generation, and they shouldn’t be pulling them into this. The war is supposed to be over.

Lando doesn’t say any of this, just smiles at the kid and wishes him well. Wedge, realising that achieving anything is now pointless, dismisses the pilots, and they all drift off – though Temmin takes longer to go than the others, stopping to talk with Wedge.

When they’ve all gone, Lando finally feels able to do what he’s wanted since he first saw Wedge, and pulls him into a long, deep hug. Wedge stiffens for a moment, then relaxes against Lando, hands reaching up to clutch the back of Lando’s shirt. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” Lando mutters.

“It’s good to see you too,” Wedge replies, stepping back. He runs his hands over Lando’s shoulders as he does so, and Lando has to resist the urge to grasp the front of his uniform and tug him back in. Probably a bad idea to do that in the hangar, anyway. “Shall we get out of here?” Wedge asks.

Lando nods.

Wedge reaches for a cane – that surprises Lando, it’s been a couple of months since his accident, surely he should be off it by now – but Lando doesn’t say anything. They walk in companionable silence until they’re out of the military base, and in the anonymity of Chandrila’s busy streets, Lando finally feels comfortable striking up a conversation.

“So how does Norra feel about you recruiting her son?” Lando asks. “I can’t imagine she’s pleased.”

“Norra has greater things on her mind,” Wedge says, a long-suffering note in his voice. “You’re right, she’d rather he wasn’t involved, but I think she's just grateful that he’s with me and keeping himself out of trouble.”

There’s a story here, Lando can tell, but there’s something in Wedge’s tone that is cautionary, and he decides not to pursue it. “I’m sure we’d all be happier if those we loved kept themselves out of trouble.”

“Yeah,” Wedge agrees. He pauses outside a Tap-Caf, and inclines his head. Lando nods, and they go in. The waitress greets Wedge cordially, and shows them to a table quickly. Wedge must come here a lot, because there’s a drink for him on the table by the time they’re sat down. Lando just asks for a cup of strong caf. He’s tired, after the flight here. “How’s Luke?” Wedge asks, once they’ve both got drinks.

“Fine,” Lando answers. “Certainly not keeping himself out of trouble, though.” Wedge’s face falls, twisting. “Hey. He’s fine. Just— things got a little hairy on Mataou. But it’s Luke, you know how he is at getting himself out of scrapes.”

A small, nervous smile tugs at the edges of Wedge’s lips. “I know. Still doesn’t mean that I don’t wish he could be here, with us, where I know he’s safe.”

“He’ll come back home eventually,” Lando says, the words slipping out his mouth before he has the chance to think them through. The implication of _us_ and _home_ hangs in the air between them, and Lando wonders whether he’s stepped too far, been obvious with his desires. “He sends his love, by the way. And best wishes for your recovery.”

“I got a message last week from him,” Wedge says. “But thanks for passing it on, anyway. And thanks for all the messages you sent. I really appreciated them.”

Lando doesn’t think he’ll ever be over just how sincere Wedge is about these things. “It’s not a problem. How are you healing up, anyway?”

Lando sits back and watches as Wedge talks about how his recovery is going, the frustration about not being able to do more. How things on Chandrila are going, how the New Republic Navy is responding to Mon Mothma’s plans for de-militarisation, even in the face of the renewed threat from the Imperial Remnant and assassination attempts on Mothma herself.

As the Chandrilan sunset looms, sending warm light through the windows of the Tap-Caf, striking Wedge’s face as he talks passionately about what needs to be done, Lando has what he discovered on Anoat confirmed. He wants this man. Wants to kiss the hollow of his throat and watch him arch in response, take him to bed and take him apart, listen to him talk about everything and nothing. Wants to soothe away the near constant worry in his brow, make him forget about his worries for just a night.

But he’s still convinced that Wedge has feelings for Luke, and Lando’s not going to get in the way of that. Besides, if it came down to it: if Wedge had to choose, Lando has no doubts who would win. Lando is an attractive man, to be sure, with charm and grace and qualities he knows Wedge likes, but Luke is… Luke is something else, a star at the centre of the galaxy pulling everyone around him into his orbit, not to mention all the years of history he and Wedge have.

Lando can’t beat that.

It doesn’t mean that, as he and Wedge leave the Tap-Caf to head to Han and Leia’s, he doesn’t lean a little close, offer Wedge his arm instead of Wedge relying on his cane. He’s not that good a man.

.

Wedge sits on a chair in Luke’s study, watching with a smile on his face as Luke tosses the latest dusty tome aside and flops back on to the sofa that runs across one wall. “You don’t have to do this all at once, you know,” Wedge says.

Luke groans, covering his face with his hands. “Yeah, yeah.” He stays silent for a moment. “I just—” He hesitates. “I don’t want to muck this up.”

“You won’t,” Wedge tells him. “The fact that you’re so concerned about the possibility of that tells me that you’ll do your best by every kid who comes your way. And that’s all you can do.”

Luke drops his arms, and rolls over to look at Wedge, fixing him with that crystal blue gaze. Wedge meets his eyes. He believes in Luke.

Luke drops his gaze, closing his eyes and turning away. “I need to do this,” he says. “For Ben, if nothing else.”

Ben – Han and Leia’s baby, named for Obi-Wan Kenobi – is three weeks old, and already has the weight of all the expectations of being the son of Leia Organa and the nephew of Luke Skywalker placed upon him. Wedge considers the chances of the kid making it to adulthood without problems low. Especially as Leia and Luke are certain that he will be strong in the force.

Wedge thinks of the cooing, crying, tiny baby that he’d held in his arms just yesterday and thinks that they might all be getting ahead of themselves.

“Luke, it will be years before Ben needs training,” Wedge reminds him, because the arrival of a baby in their midsts has had the effect of making them all feel old and like they’re running out of time. Lando had already scarpered, taking a mission from Mon Mothma herself to represent the New Republic at a conference of Outer Rim planets. “And I know it’s not just Ben who will need training. But you’re just one man. You don’t need to have all the answers.”

“People expect me too though.”

“I don’t.”

Luke looks up at Wedge again, and Wedge reconsiders the way he’d said it; maybe a little too softly, a little too fond? “No, you’ve seen me have zero answers and had to rescue my ass in a briefing one too many times for that to be the case.” Luke laughs.

Wedge smiles back. “No, that’s not—” _Screw it_ , he thinks, moving over from the chair to sit beside Luke. “I didn’t mean it like that. But you are right.” Luke sits up a little straighter, leaning into Wedge. “Luke, you’ve already done so much for everyone. You’re allowed to have some time for yourself. Working this hard isn’t getting you anywhere.”

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Luke shoots back, echoing a conversation they’d had back on Endor, months and months ago.

Wedge shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” He shuffles a little closer to Luke, enough so that they’re sitting flush, side by side. It’s a silly gesture, an unnecessary one, but Wedge wills some comfort to Luke through the touch. “Have you found anyone else to help you? Not that I mind helping you out,” he clarifies, suddenly realising what his words sound like. “Just fairly certain you need someone more than a force-null pilot helping you out on this.”

Luke turns his head. “I like having you here,” he says, softly, lips parted, mouth red and glistening, and all it would take was Wedge leaning forward a matter of inches to kiss him. To run his tongue across the seam of Luke’s lips, to make him gasp, thread a hand through that fine sandy hair.

But Luke is a Jedi, and Wedge can’t want him that way. He can’t add another complication to Luke’s life. They never managed to make it work back when they were both just pilots, just danced around each other for years, so why would it work now: when Luke has the weight of the Galaxy on his shoulders, and Wedge is rapidly heading towards being a washed-up, retired pilot at the tender age of twenty-seven.

Besides, since Endor, there’s another complication: Lando Calrissian.

Wedge isn’t stupid. He knows he’s falling for Lando, just as much as he has fallen for Luke, and feels the man’s absence now sharply in his chest. It would be unfair to pursue Luke whilst he had feelings for someone else, and it would be unfair on Lando – who does not carry Luke’s baggage, would be the easier choice, a man who Wedge can (almost) see a relationship with working – to start something, when Wedge has spent the last five years of his life in love with Luke Skywalker.

(And that’s without thinking about what Lando’s feelings are: something went on on Mataou between them, Wedge is sure. He probably likes Luke too. Not that Wedge can blame him.)

“I’m not having much luck tracking anyone down, though. Lots of references to survivors of Order Sixty-Six, that’s sure, but tracking any of them more than about fifteen years after that starts to get difficult,” Luke carries on, jolting Wedge out of his thoughts. “I’ve got a meeting set up with a man named Lor San Tekka, who claims to know something, and I’m meeting again with Mon Mothma next week – I’m sure she isn’t telling me everything she knows – but that’s not much. And there are all these passing references in accounts from five to ten years ago about Jedi working with the Alliance, but can I work out who they are?” Luke sighs with frustration. “I’m afraid I may be relying on your kindness for a little while longer, Wedge.”

“I’ve already told you I don’t mind,” Wedge replies.

Regardless of how he and Luke work out romantically, Luke is Wedge’s friend, first and foremost, and Wedge doesn't want to lose him.

“You got any of those accounts to hand?” Wedge asks. “I’ve been around the Alliance that long. Sure don’t remember any Jedi – I’d have told you if I did – but maybe I can piece the fragments together better than you can.”

“I’ll get them for you,” Luke says. He’s up off the sofa then, and Wedge immediately misses the warmth from his side. But then Luke is back, handing over a data-pad, and they’re back to working in companionable silence.

Wedge likes the quiet.

He could do this forever, he thinks. The only thing missing is Lando, sitting on the corner of the desk, making jibes at them, while simultaneously sorting through all this data work with an efficiency unmatched by Luke or Wedge. If he was here; then it would be perfect.

.

Luke likes Hyperspace. It’s calm and soothing and gives him a rare chance to catch his thoughts. And, in the small shuttle he’s in, it’s easy to leave the ship computer and Artoo in charge of the controls, step away from the cockpit, and find some time to meditate.

He’s still hoping to find someone else who can share this burden with him. His meeting with Lor San Tekka was helpful; the man is clearly knowledgeable about the force, but possesses little talent with it. He’s a resource worth having, but not the one Luke was hoping for.

Wedge had turned something up though, chasing down the Jedi references throughout the Alliance files and come to the conclusion that there had been at least one Jedi on the Ghost crew.

(He’d worn a shocked face, explaining to Luke: “I _knew_ them,” he’d said, pulling a hand back through his hair. “But… that’s the way the evidence points. The Ghost crew was involved with every mission that these Jedi were on and that’s too big a coincidence? Isn’t it?” He’d looked at Luke with those wide eyes, and furrowed mouth and Luke had said he didn’t know, but he was going to look into it.)

So now Luke is chasing leads of an Alliance Cell who officially vanished off the map five years ago and hoping that it might lead him somewhere.

He sits on the cool steel floor of the ship, crossing his legs over each other and centering himself. He takes a deep breath and reaches out with the Force, feeling his way through. Meditating in Hyperspace is always a little odd, with the rush of planets and stars bending around him, but it makes Luke work harder.

He needs to work harder, be better, to learn all he can about the Jedi so he can pass it along to a new generation, ones who don’t spend long years of their lives unaware of their heritage.

He reaches out further. He’s always found it easy to find Leia, her presence shining bright to him – he used to wonder why; now he knows it is because of Leia’s own strength in the force, and a familiarity forged between them during the nine months before they came into this world. She’s holding Ben, who burns even brighter, already fierce and glaring and making his presence known, even at seven weeks of age.

Han is harder to find, but he’s not far from them; he’s settling better than Luke thought he might into the role of husband and father, and is devoted to Ben.

There are other glaring signatures; the Force Tree he gave to Shara Bey, planted on Yavin, a small boy he presumes is her son sleeping underneath it. Various temples, still bright even after years of disuse and defilement. Pricks and sparks shimmer through the Force, giving Luke the tantalising feeling that there are others out there, but he can’t track or focus on any flash of light quickly enough. They slip through his fingers.

He draws back. He’s done this before, and knows that there is no good in it. Instead, he just lets himself drift through the comforting warmth of the Force’s embrace, feeling the peace and rightness of the Galaxy sink into his bones.

His attention wanders, though, drawn to things even as he tries not to think about anything, and ends up settling on Wedge. The man is in his X-Wing at the moment – the only time when Luke can ever find him in the Force is when he’s flying, when the Force swells up around him in respect of his skill and the beauty he creates moving through the sky – and he’s leading a squadron around in some standard exercises, formations that Luke and Wedge designed together.

He smiles because of that.

(On the other hand, he can feel that, whatever people say: this war is not done yet. There’s still a battle coming, and Wedge will probably be fighting in it, and that chills Luke down to his bones. Wedge’s odds were up a long time ago, and Luke doesn’t want to consider what the chances of him surviving another battle are.)

He misses Wedge, even though they only said goodbye two weeks ago. Seeing Han and Leia settled with a kid has thrown up an ache in Luke’s chest. It’s not that he wants what they have, a house and a baby and an entire life taking shape in front of them, but he… he wants something, someone, to share his worries at the end of a long day or week, to cherish and to hold and to love.

He’d hoped that it might be Wedge, but he’s got his doubts as to whether there’s anything there anymore. Luke’s not an idiot; he knows that Wedge once nursed a serious crush on him, and they’d messed around a bit in the early days of their friendship. But Luke had been too concerned with living up to his father’s legacy of becoming a Jedi and being besotted with Leia, and Han, to take it seriously. Now he has, and finds he likes the idea; likes Wedge, and his floppy hair and guarded smiles.

Only Luke thinks that he might have missed his chance, because Lando Calrissian has wandered into their lives and captured Wedge’s heart up, and Lando can give Wedge the life and the family he’s always wanted. All Luke has to offer is the companionship of the last Jedi, a life spent wandering the galaxy in search of facts about a destroyed Order, and Wedge deserves stability.

And Luke can see the attraction of Lando – he’s not forgotten about the way Lando kissed him on Burnin-Konn, even if it was under the guise of a cover, or the way Lando had looked him afterwards. Luke had ignored it at the time, swept it to the back corner of his mind as something to deal with later, and now he allows a moment to luxuriate in the way Lando’s eyes had locked onto him, filled with desire.

Luke’s a Jedi, and he doesn’t agree with the old code of no attachments – he thinks its impossible, that anyone playing that card is merely fooling themselves – but he recognises the dangers of wanting, of knowing that there are people in this galaxy who he loves who he would tear entire systems down for, and that there’s no one with the power to stop him.

He’s disrupted from his thoughts by Artoo beeping impatiently at him. Luke opens his eyes, and finds the droid in front of him. “Are we there?” Luke asks, feeling around him to see if he can sense realspace around him.

Artoo beeps in the positive.

Luke stands up, running a hand over Artoo’s domed head. “Come on, then,” Luke says. “Let's see what Mandalore holds for us.”

.

Lando places his hand on his forehead, and groans. “Kriffing hells,” he says. “Of all the places he could have walked into…”

Luke, besides him, wearing a hooded cloak in an attempt to keep his identity hidden – which isn’t really working, because it’s cut in such a way that the lightsaber on his belt is visible when he walks – looks at him curiously. “It’s another seedy Cantina in a town of seedy Cantinas. What’s so bad about this one?”

“Well, nothing, really,” Lando explains. “Apart from the fact that it’s run by the Ivax Syndicate and they and I have had some disagreements since my adventures in Anoat, and it was made pretty clear that if I was ever on their territory again I would be losing fingers or worse.” He grimaces, and looks at his hands. “I’d quite like to keep them, given an option.”

Luke muses beside him, and Lando feels guilty for a moment. He’s been tracking one of Ohnaka’s cronies for the last week, hoping they’d have the information necessary to lead Luke to the missing Ghost Crew – and the Jedi with them – and this is the closest they’ve got yet. If Luke loses this because of him… Lando won’t forgive himself easily.

“Do you know who owns it?” Wedge asks, quietly, from the other side of Lando. He’s been so quiet this entire journey that Lando keeps forgetting that he’s here as well.

Lando takes a moment to think. “Blae Xan Fox, I think?”

“Xan?” Wedge smiles. “We’ll be fine. Follow me.”

And then Wedge is off, walking straight toward the front door without a care in the world.

Lando looks to Luke. “Is he mad? He’s going to get us killed.” Even as Lando says it, there’s a voice at the back of his head saying that Wedge would never do that, but he’s still not quite sure how Wedge intends on getting them out of this.

Luke’s grinning, which is always worrying. “I think he knows what he’s doing.” Luke grabs Lando’s arm, and tugs him after Wedge.

The inside of the Cantina is possibly grubbier than it is outside, with low lights and set back booths; the perfect type for doing seedy business. Lando spent most of his twenties in places like this, and is glad he doesn’t anymore. The floor is crowded, but Wedge steps through it like a plasma knife through duracrete.

He pauses, taking a moment to look around. Luke has caught him up, leaving Lando straggling, and desperately pulling his hood over his face to avoid any chance of being recognised. “We would speak with Jeboala Vrish,” Wedge announces. “I know he’s here. I’d appreciate being pointed in the right direction.”

This is a stupid idea, if Lando’s ever seen one. There’s no way that this is going to get them anywhere; they’ll be lucky if it doesn’t get them killed. And true to that, Lando catches someone raising a blaster at Wedge, taking aim at his head.

Lando moves forward, ready to drag Wedge down and out the way, but someone else gets their first. Stepping in front of the man who raised the blaster, and pushing it back down again. “You idiot!” Lando hears said. “Don’t you know who that is?”

Wedge keeps his head held high, waiting for a response from the gathered crowd. Finally, he gets one: a spitting reaction, along with a curse. “Your father doesn’t quite grant you our co-operation, sith spawn.”

Wedge scowls, but then a woman; medium height, well built, comes through the crowd and smacks the man who said that upside the head. “Behave,” she says, in a venomous voice which makes it quite clear that she’s capable of making him if he chooses not to comply.

Lando knows who this is. Blae Xan Fox, former deadly assassin and bounty hunter, feared across all of Hutt space, who retired from that line of work twenty years ago to run a series of seedy cantinas, known for their openness to the worst of the criminal element the Galaxy has to offer. Lando can’t remember how many times he’s been told he should never cross her.

And here she is, standing next to Wedge, smiling up at him and patting his cheek. “It has been too long, Wedge,” she says.

He bends down to kiss her cheek. “Hello, Xan. Good to see you.”

“How’s your sister these days? Last I heard, she had an exquisite pair of Alderaanian vases for sale: I’d like to pick them up if they’re still available.”

“They aren't,” Wedge says quickly, and Lando remembers Leia talking about a pair of vases in mint condition that had been donated to the office of the Alderaanian Refugees. “But she’s fine. I’ll let her know that if she’s ever in the vicinity she should drop by.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Xan then suddenly loses the smile off her face, switching back to business. “You said you wanted to speak to Jeboala Vrish. Is that all you want?”

“He has information we need. Nothing to do with his dubious past. Just need him to confirm some things about some acquaintances of Ohnaka’s.”

Xan raises her eyebrows, looking dubious. “Good luck,” she says. “He’s over there, in the back corner, in the booth, hiding behind the Gamorrean.” Wedge turns his head to Luke, who nods and quickly heads in that direction. Xan glances after him, then sighs and shakes her head. “I don’t want to know who your friends are, do I?”

“Not that one, no,” Wedge replies.

“And your other seems quite keen on not being recognised, too.” Lando ducks his head, hoping to avoid her gaze. “I’ll leave you to it.”

And with that, she sweeps away, leaving Wedge and Lando standing in the middle of her cantina, reliant on whatever mystical protection Wedge seems to have. Lando steps towards Wedge, occupying the space Luke has vacated. He wants to say something, but doesn’t know what: wants to know how Wedge does this. The references to his father and sister make Lando curious; he’d assumed Wedge was an orphan, along with most of the stragglers that had made up the early Rebel Alliance, and he’s never mentioned a sister, who he’s apparently still in contact with.

“I’m immensely curious right now,” he settles for, whispering it in Wedge’s ear.

Wedge chuckles. “I’d almost be disappointed if you weren’t.” His tone is a little teasing, his breath warm where it hits the exposed part of Lando’s collarbone, and Lando has to remind himself, once again, that he’s not getting involved with Wedge, and that even if he was, this wouldn’t be the place to do it.

He can’t help but lean in to Wedge, though.

And then his hood slips.

Almost instantly, someone recognises him. “Calrissian.” Lando doesn’t know who it is; it could be any one of them, a dozen heavily armed mercenaries who suddenly have hands on weapons and seem perilously close to drawing them.

“I thought you might have learnt something on Burnin-Konn.” This one, Lando recognises. Jobal Krin, a mid-league member of the Ivax Syndicate. They’d had minor run ins on Burnin Konn, enough that this is probably personal for Krin. It certainly seems that way, given that Krin has his hand on the handle of his blaster.

Lando reaches for his own blaster, secure in a harness on his hip.

Wedge steps between them.

“Stop,” he says, in a deadly calm, chilling voice.

Everyone does. Lando’s never seen Wedge like this before; he figures that this is what he’s like in the cockpit, but then all Lando has is his steely, calm voice over the comm unit, which isn’t much to go on. Wedge doesn’t have a hand on a weapon, but he’s exuding a vibe that suggests he could acquire one at a moments notice and fire it before anyone else got a shot off.

Lando would be terrified if he was on the receiving end of Wedge’s wrath. But he’s not.

(Honestly, he’s a little aroused.)

“He owes us a debt,” one of the gang members says.

“And you can collect on it later,” Wedge replies, shooting a deadly glare at the Zabrak who’d dared to speak up. “For now, he’s under the same protection I am. If you want to touch him, you will have to go through me. And do any of you fancy explaining to Booster Terrik why you made the decision, and being blacklisted by every associate he has? Surely that would far out way whatever trifling thing Lando owes you.”

Krin considers it for a moment. “Fine,” he says with a scowl. “Ivax has no wish to make an enemy of Terrik as things stand.” He releases his grip on his blaster. “But, Calrissian, next time – you may not get as lucky as to have a friend on your side.”

He turns his back before Lando can manage a retort, and the rest of the Ivax members slip back into the crowd.

“Let's go,” Wedge says. “Before someone else decides that they want a piece of you.”

Lando nods, willing to defer to Wedge on this one. He’s still a little struck by how commanding Wedge was, a little entranced by him; the way he stood is likely to haunt his dreams for months.

Luke comes back, just then, and gives Wedge and Lando an apprising look, clearly surmising everything to know about what just happened in a single moment. “Did you get what you needed?” Wedge asks.

“Enough,” Luke answers.

With that, the three of them make a sharp exit from the cantina, beating a swift retreat through the city streets and back to their ship. Luke heads straight for the cockpit, initiating the take off, and Wedge goes to the co-pilots chair while Lando just stands behind them. It’s not long before they’re exiting atmo, and from then it’s only a short-while for them to jump to Hyperspace.

“So,” Wedge says. “You get any information that would lead to Ezra or Kanan?”

“No,” Lando cuts in. “That can wait. I want to know what the hell happened in the Cantina.”

Wedge turns in surprise. “There ain’t much to tell,” he says. “Not really.”

Luke cocks his head in Wedge’s direction, but addresses Lando. “Did he do that thing, where he stands in the middle of the worst scum and villainy the Galaxy has to offer, and talks straight back to them?” Lando nods. “I did tell you he was good at that,” Luke says, with a bit of a grin. “What did you make of it?”

Lando recollects Wedge, stood in the middle of that crowd, radiating power. “It was kriffing hot.”

Luke just grins even wider than before, while Wedge looks gobsmacked, and Lando realises that those words really did slip out his mouth. He bites his mouth closed, regretting it in an instant, because he’d sworn that he wasn’t going to get in the middle of any of this, and now he’s only gone and put his foot in it.

Wedge looks nervous as he gapes for the words. “… You think it was hot?” he asks, voice a little high. “It’s not; I mean, I just… Booster Terrik’s name still carries a fair amount of weight, and he practically adopted me after my parents died, and it’s not something I do—”

Luke leans over and places his head on Wedge’s arm. “Wedge,” he says, cutting through Wedge’s mutterings. “I’ve seen you do it. It’s kinda hot.”

Wedge looks even more shell-shocked than before, if that was at all possible. His eyes are wide, and his mouth is wide and Lando wants to move away from this as quickly as he can. He thinks on Wedge’s mumblings, and the name that’s come up more than once. “You’re Booster Terrik’s kid? So your sister must by Mirax, right? She’s a smart—” Suddenly, Lando remembers something he’d heard years ago, a tale he’d half-dismissed.”Shit, you’re the kid who stole the headhunter to get revenge on his parents’ killers.”

“Yes,” Wedge says, sighing. “Can we step back a moment?” He lifts his eyes up and meets Lando’s, staring straight at him. “You think I’m hot?”

“That’s not exactly what I said,” Lando says, because he’d said that he’d found Wedge’s actions hot, not the man himself, regardless of the fact that the second is also very very true. Wedge’s face falls, and he turns away, towards Luke.

“Oh, kriffing hells, Lando, just kiss him already,” Luke says.

Wedge looks shocked, once again, looking in surprise up at Luke, and across to Lando, and Lando’s had it. Screw everything; Luke’s right. So he steps up and across the room and cups Wedge’s face and kisses him.

Wedge gasps, and Lando takes advantage of it, sliding his tongue into Wedge’s mouth. He tangles his fingers in Wedge’s fine hair, drawing him closer. Wedge finally brings his hands up to clutch at the back of Lando’s shirt, and begins to kiss back, as Lando tilts his head to angle the kiss even deeper.

When they break for air, Lando draws back, enjoying how wrecked Wedge looks; his eyes are heavy, pupils blown wide, and his lips are a sharp red. And he looks completely befuddled. “Wait…” he says. His hands are still fisted in the back of Lando’s shirt, possibly because it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “I thought—” Lando just patiently waits for him to get out what he needs to say, despite the temptation of leaning in to kiss him again. “You like Luke,” he says, finally letting go of Lando’s shirt and stepping backwards.

Wedge has ducked his head, firmly avoiding eye contact, so Lando flicks his eyes over to Luke, who’s still sitting in the pilot’s seat, watching both Wedge and Lando with rapt attention. He notices Lando’s gaze, and shrugs: making it clear that Lando is going to have to use his words to get out of this one.

“I do,” Lando says, because they’ve been dodging the truth for long enough. “And so do you,” he adds, because he thinks that Wedge will never say the words. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t also like you, Wedge. There’s room in my heart for more than one person.”

Wedge lifts his eyes, looking at Lando through dark lashes, before turning his head in Luke’s direction. “Luke, I—”

“Wedge, I’d started to give up hope you still liked me,” Luke says, in a teasing voice, because he seems to have worked out that that isn’t the case.

“No, I— ” Wedge abandons whatever it was he was going to say and steps across and is in Luke’s lap and kisses him fiercely. Lando watches, curious; they kiss like they’ve done this before, which Lando has always suspected they have, and there is no jealousy at seeing them. Just relief, and joy, and an intimacy at being allowed to watch which Lando very much likes.

Wedge breaks the kiss, and leans his forehead against Luke’s, straddling him. “Luke, I’ve loved you since… I don’t know, since Hoth, before Hoth, I don’t know when but I fell in love with you and I’ve never stopped. I fell for someone else, yes, but that was an also. I— It’s always been you, Luke.”

Luke leans up and captures Wedge’s lips in a gentle kiss, sweeping a hand along his jaw, and it’s so gentle that Lando almost melts, falling back against the wall of the cockpit and sighing as he watches them.

“Lando, get over here,” Luke calls, and Lando goes. He finds himself pulled down into a messy kiss by Luke tugging at the front of his shirt, and then Wedge curling an arm around him and mouthing at his neck, and thinks _I could get used to this._

.

Wedge wakes up alone for the first time in a week. But the bed is still warm, so neither of his lovers can have been gone long, and are probably still in the house somewhere. So he throws back the covers and finds himself a shirt, then pads through the house in search of them. He finds them at the kitchen table, Luke sitting reading something on a datapad and nursing a cup of caf, while Lando is peering over his shoulder, arms wrapped around Luke’s chest. It’s charmingly domestic, and Wedge feels his heart swell with love at the sight of it.

Not that he’s said the word love to Lando. It’s too soon, too new, to be saying that sort of thing – it’s different with Luke, where they’ve got years of history and Wedge has known for years exactly how he feels. But this feels solid, and long-lasting, and he knows it won’t be long before one of them says it.

As Wedge passes through the kitchen doorway, Luke lifts his head, smiling when he catches sight of Wedge. It doesn’t take long for Wedge to make his way over, and tilt his head upward to kiss Lando in greeting. “Morning, sweetheart,” Lando says. “Do you want some Caf?”

“Please,” Wedge replies.

Lando goes to fetch him a mug, leaving Wedge to say good morning to Luke. He takes the chair next to Luke, pulling it close, and takes one of Luke’s hands. He presses a kiss into the palm of Luke’s hand, and then one on Luke’s pulse point, hoping to sufficiently distract Luke from whatever it is he’s reading. He meets Luke’s eyes, which are soft and gentle, and there’s a hint of a smile on his face. Lacing his fingers with Luke’s, Wedge leans in to kiss him properly. The datapad that Luke was holding clatters on the table as Luke drops it, bringing his hand up to cup Wedge’s jaw. “Your stubble tickles,” Luke mutters, before leaning in to kiss Wedge again, long and sweet.

“And?” Wedge responds, before intentionally dragging his cheek along Luke’s jaw and smiling as Luke gasps, his hand tightening in Wedge’s hair. He flutters quick kisses down the side of Luke’s neck, before concentrating his attentions on a spot just above Luke’s collarbone. Luke goes pleasingly limp under Wedge’s ministrations, and Wedge laps at Luke’s skin, revelling in the salt-sweet-ness of it, and Luke’s scent; sweet, but with something dangerous to it as well, the burning charge of electricity. Not that Wedge has ever needed reminding of the amount of power Luke can yield.

Things are perhaps getting a little heated, Wedge considering whether he should drag Luke out of his seat and back to the bedroom, when there’s a cough. Wedge looks over to find Lando sitting in the chair opposite them, smirking. “Not that I’m not enjoying the view…” he says – which is probably an understatement, because Wedge has learnt in the past week that Lando likes to watch. They all do, in fairness, one of the many reasons why this is working for them; but it’s Lando who takes a special pleasure in it, in watching Luke take Wedge apart and memorising every moment and then re-enacting it when it’s his turn, pushing Wedge into waves upon waves of pleasure. “Just figured that Wedge might like to drink his caf before it goes cold.” He pushes a mug over to Wedge. It’s certainly not cold yet, but it’s already cooler than Wedge tends to drink it at – he must have spent longer getting distracted by Luke than he thought. “Also thought you might like some breakfast, but you can carry on with each other if you’d like.”

Lando smirks, making it quite clear he’d be happy to watch Luke and Wedge continue, but Luke shakes his head and detangles himself from Wedge, pressing one last kiss to his jaw. “Breakfast sounds lovely, Lando,” he says. Then he picks up his datapad and goes back to whatever it is he was reading.

Lando bustles off to grab some things from the conservator. Wedge contemplates going to help, but Lando and Luke have made it quite clear that his help in the kitchen is not appreciated – not until he learns a modicum of sense about what ingredients go well together. So Wedge finds his datapad and commlink and sits back down next to Luke, enjoying the quiet between them. He checks the news – nothing there, just more nonsense speculating about the reforms that are currently shaking the New Republic Naval Forces. There’s a lot of junk in his messages, too, and he deletes most of it.

Apart from one.

“What is it?” Lando asks, sliding a plate of food in front of him.

“Military summons,” Wedge says. The message is from Ackbar himself, with a couple of others copied in. “I’m to report to the Chandrilan HQ this afternoon.”

“Any idea what it’s about?” Lando asks, still hovering behind Wedge.

“No.” Wedge turns his head to face Lando, who’s eyeing him cautiously. “Could be there’s a mission for me, or a permanent assignment, or they could have decided they’re going to hand me my retirement papers.”

Lando presses a kiss to Wedge’s temple. “Don’t worry about it too much.”

Wedge nods, moving on and deciding that eating his breakfast is, indeed, the thing to be done. He helps Lando clear up, leaving Luke plotting his next move – the information recovered from Vrish has yet to pan out into an actual lead, and Luke’s considering moving away from people who don’t want to be found. It’s nice, just to stand alongside Lando, to hear Luke’s mutterings of frustration in the background. But then duty beckons, and Wedge puts on his uniform and bids his loves farewell.

It turns out he’s not the only one summoned. And the briefing is being led by Mon Mothma; a rare sight indeed these days, since she decided to disentangle herself from military affairs. That in itself is enough to lead Wedge to believe that whatever it is is bad indeed. And some of the leading lights of the Rebellion are gathered, and Ackbar and Rieekan are both flanking Mothma. Most curiously, Thane Kyrell is also standing with them.

The briefing is indeed as bad as Wedge fears. The Republic is planning to capture the Star Destroyer _Inflictor_ , and has prepared an infiltration team for the purpose. Intelligence suggests that the last of the Imperial Fleet is assembled at Jakku, though, and wants to prepare for a fight. Wedge is asked to lead not just Rogue and Phantom Squadrons, but Flashstone too, and the remnants of Corona. It’s a large responsibility, the idea of leading that many Starfighters into battle, and one that Wedge is not entirely sure he wants, but he recognises that he’s the best person for the job.

It’s late in the evening when they’re finally released from the briefing, and told to go, and report back at six hundred hours sharp the next morning. Wedge doesn’t stick around to talk strategy with anyone else. He just wants to get home – he has a home to go back to now, people he loves who he doesn’t want to lose, and that is going to make this battle a thousand times harder. He catches a shuttle back through the streets of Hanna City to the apartment that he and Lando and Luke are keeping at the moment, and uses his own key to open the door. The apartment is quiet; that’s a good thing.

From the door to the living room Wedge can see Luke and Lando curled up together on the settee, talking in hushed voices. He leans against the door frame, taking a moment to fix the image solidly in his memory. When he flies into battle above the skies of Jakku, he wants to remember what he has to come home to.

“Hey,” he says, after standing there for a long while just drinking in the sight of the people he loves.

Lando and Luke both look up to him. And in an instant, Lando is off the settee, moving towards Wedge. “What happened?” His voice is full of concern; he can probably read on Wedge’s face that it’s nothing good.

“I can’t tell you,” Wedge says. “So please don’t ask. Luke, don’t try and read it off me either.” Luke nods, hanging back a little. “I’ve got to report back at six hundred tomorrow. So, can we just forget about it for now?” He looks up to Lando, a little pleading.

Lando sweeps him up in an embrace, circling Wedge with warmth. A moment later Luke comes up behind Wedge, snaking his arms round Wedge’s middle and hooking his chin over Wedge’s shoulder. They stay there for a long while, just wrapped up in each other.

“How long will you be gone?” Lando asks. “Can I ask that?”

“I don’t know,” Wedge replies, which is the honest truth. He studies Lando’s face, running his thumb over Lando’s cheekbone, before leaning up to kiss him, soft and open mouthed. He can feel Luke’s pleased hum from watching buzz against his neck, before Luke decides that he could be joining in, pressing a kiss to Wedge’s neck.

“Do you want dinner?” Lando asks. “Luke and I ate, but I can warm something up for you.”

“No,” Wedge replies. He’s not hungry enough to warrant separating himself out, to lose a moment of the time he could be spending with Luke and Lando. He reaches down and feels for one of Luke’s hands, grasping it tight, and then leans up to kiss Lando again. They kiss, slick and slow, Wedge taking the time to learn every crevice of Lando’s mouth, to memorise the way he tastes; the way he stiffens a little when Wedge nips at his bottom lip, almost in surprise but possibly in arousal. “Let’s go to bed,” Wedge says.

The next morning, Wedge wakes up before the early dawn light, and extracts himself from the tangle of limbs that they slept in. He grabs a cup of caf, and then gets dressed in his uniform greys. Luke and Lando sleep through it all, and Wedge can’t bring himself to wake them. Instead, minutes before leaving, he sits on the edge of the bed, and runs his hands through both their hair. “I love you,” he says. “Both of you.” He leans down, and presses a kiss to Lando’s cheek, and Luke’s forehead.

He doesn’t bother with platitudes; there are no promises he can make, and Luke and Lando know that. He just has to do his job, and his duty, and pray that his luck will hold one more time, and that he will come back to them.

.

Luke can sense when the battle begins.

There’s something to Wedge’s force presence when he flies like that, blazing across the Galaxy. It stops Luke right in his tracks. He’d sensed Wedge’s uncertainty about whatever he’d been asked to do, but hadn’t read anything further, because Wedge had asked him not to.

But going into battle; going into what is perhaps the last, decisive battle of the Galactic Civil War, on his own… Luke feels decidedly uncomfortable about it. He wishes Wedge had told them.

It unsettles him all day, as he feels the battle raging, half-way across the Galaxy. But he remembers that he’s asked to be left outside of Galactic politics; his place in this war had only lasted while a Sith Lord was at the helm of the Empire. He can’t storm to Leia or Mon Mothma or Admiral Ackbar or General Rieekan and ask them to explain themselves.

Instead, he spends the evening tucked up in Lando’s arms, with Lando’s hand running through his hair, and Lando’s voice in his ear telling him how good a pilot Wedge is, and that if anyone can survive this, it’s him.

It takes three days for the force to return from Jakku. Something big has gone down; the defeat of the last remnant of the Galactic Empire was conclusive, and Luke spies Leia by Mon Mothma’s side. But Luke doesn’t care about that. Galactic politics are none of his concern.

The man who finally walks off one of the shuttles, amongst a number of other pilots, some of whom Luke knows and some he doesn’t, is.

Wedge looks exhausted, and grieving, and Luke doesn’t want to know how many pilots he lost.

Lando gets there first, sweeping Wedge up into an all-encompassing hug, and Wedge just sags against him, arms thrown around Lando’s neck and clinging tight. Lando lifts Wedge off his feet, and Luke can feel the relief rolling off both of them.

He chose well, he thinks, in these two men who he adores.

When Lando finally puts Wedge down, Wedge turns to Luke, looking desperate and longing. Luke steps towards him, pressing his forehead against Wedge’s as he pulls the other man close to him. “I’m so glad you’re alright, love,” Luke says, before lifting his face and cupping Wedge’s jaw and kissing him.

There’s no mistaking the actions between the three of them to be those of love. Perhaps they should have waited for some privacy, instead of doing it in full view of everyone on the tarmac. By evening, they’re all over the sludgenews, even though news of the Galactic Concordance should be surpassing it.

“Well, there goes our chances of keeping it quiet,” Wedge says from the settee, nestled in between Luke and Lando.

“You didn't want people to know?” Lando asks. There’s a little bit of hurt in his voice, like he’s uncomfortable with the idea of being a secret. This is despite Luke knowing that Lando has kept people secret in the past.

This relationship is different for him, Luke can feel that, in every time Lando touches him, and thinks of the life they could have together.

“I want our friends to know,” Wedge says. “I want them to know I love you, both of you. That’s fine. I just… don’t want it plastered across the Galaxy. What we have; it’s for us. I don’t know if anyone outside is going to understand what we have.”

Lando goes very very quiet, and it takes Luke a moment to realise the full extent of what Wedge said. Love. He’d told Lando that he loved him.

There’s something under this; it’s not the first time Wedge has voiced the words aloud. They were said too casually for that. But this is the first time Lando’s heard them.

“I love you too,” Lando says, after a long moment, and his voice is soft. Fragile. With a little doubt; not in the words, but whether this is the right time to say them.

Wedge looks surprised. Maybe he hadn’t realised what he’d said, either. His eyes go wide and he sits up a little straighter, fiddling with his hands, almost in crisis. Then he falls forward to kiss Lando, catching hands in hair. Lando gasps, at first in surprise, then with something else.

There goes the conversation for that evening, but Luke’s not going to complain about what follows.

The next days are mad, with Luke drafted in as Ben’s caretaker while Leia frantically tries to work out what to do with the new reality they’ve found themselves with. Wedge is heralded as a hero; one of the few who had seen almost every major battle of the Rebellion, through to the last. He’s bashful about the whole thing, uncomfortable with the praise.

Not for the first time, Luke thinks about getting away from it all. He has no interest in making his home on Chandrila; after a childhood on Tatooine, and the rest of his life spent in backwater Rebel bases, the idea of settling in a bustling city at the heart of the Galaxy holds no appeal. He confides this to Lando, who admits he’s already looking for something.

Luke isn’t sure whether Wedge is ready for a life outside the Navy. He’s seen the uncertainty in his love’s face previously, at the idea of retirement. Luke is hoping though, that it was merely uncertainty at having his life's only constant being tugged away from him.

Now he has Luke and Lando, and Luke is hoping they might be enough.

Two weeks after the Battle of Jakku, Wedge returns to their apartment in Hanna City in the evening, his kit bag slung over his shoulder. “If I left the military, would you still love me?” He lets the words hang in the air, standing in the doorway.

Luke is completely baffled. “Of course,” he replies, dropping the book – an actual, paper book – he was working on, and making his way over to Wedge. His love has never been conditional on such a foolish idea.

“Good,” Wedge replies. He drops his bag. It clanks as it hits the floor. “Because I think I might have just quit. Kriff. Luke. What did I do?” He falls into Luke, placing his head against Luke’s shoulder, and Luke just holds him.

That’s how Lando finds them, ten minutes later, when he returns. Standing in the doorway of the apartment, desperately clinging to each other.

More tumbles out, as Lando asks just what is going on. Wedge explaining that he’d been asked to take a tour of duty, one that would have taken him far away from Luke and Lando, with no real end in sight. Into dangerous territory, imperial strongholds that are still a threat even as the Empire has fallen. The implication that Wedge wasn’t going to be given much of a choice about it.

“Hey,” Lando says, reaching up to brush tears away from where they’ve gathered under Wedge’s eyes. He looks to Luke for a moment, and Luke knows what he’s thinking. This is the perfect moment. He nods. “So, Luke and I have been thinking,” Lando says. “About getting away for a bit. Just the three of us, the Galaxy, and a bunch of dusty Jedi relics. What do you say?”

There’s only one answer, and Luke is so relieved to hear it sound from Wedge’s lips. “Yes.”


End file.
